


born to make it happen

by norgbelulah



Series: Born To Royal AU [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Family Drama, M/M, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9309695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norgbelulah/pseuds/norgbelulah
Summary: Victor is pleased Yuuri has accepted his proposal of marriage. Yuuri is anxious they're rushing into things. Matters are complicated when they realize they will have to convince literally everyone else it's a good idea.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to H, MK, and Krys, for reading and beta reading, and new friend Spatzi for "history" reading. I couldn't have posted without your help!

Sometimes in the morning, Yuuri preferred skating in silence. He would do his routine--whatever he was currently teaching himself--but left the rhythm of it to his memory and listened instead to the clean, sharp sound of his skates gliding through the ice. It was soothing. Today, Yuuri really needed soothing.

He went through his routine three or four times, then just began to circle the ice. Every once in a while, he’d do a jump--a single axel, then a double. He could never get the hang of triple jumps. He’d thought often about hiring a coach, just to learn more, but then he’d have to explain the expense to his parents, and they’d have to take it up with Ojii-sama, the Emperor, his grandfather, who held the purse strings for most of their extravagances.

Ojii-sama.

Yuuri’s parents must be informing him now.

Yuuri stopped at the dead center of the ice and tried to catch his breath.

“Yuuri,” Victor called from the other side of the boards. He was waving hesitantly as he said, “Are you tired now? You’ve been here for hours.”

“Hours?” Yuuri muttered, startled. He hadn’t realized Victor was here. He must have just come down from the castle. Yuuri turned towards the large clock above the scoreboard they kept for the rare hockey game. Victor was right. He’d left at 6:00 am, before anyone else had been awake. Now it was nearly 9:00. Yuuri shook his head and pushed off to skate over to Victor. “I’m sorry,” he said as he neared him--his betrothed. “I must have lost track of time.”

Victor smiled at him, with a simplicity that made Yuuri think, however strangely, that he must just be happy to see Yuuri. “I didn’t want to intrude but, I think there are some things we must speak about before the day begins.”

Yuuri rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. “Of course. Uh. And, I mean, it’s perfectly fine for you to come and interrupt me. I shouldn’t have stayed so long.”

“Perhaps tomorrow I could join you,” Victor said. The smile was still on his face, but Yuuri noted it was strained and his tone was too light. He spoke as if he didn’t care at all, but Yuuri wondered. He must care enough to ask, to want to wake up before the sun and climb down the hill for a hobby that wasn’t his own. Unless he was just being polite.

Yuuri nodded. “Whenever you want.” He stepped off the ice and onto the rubber mat where Victor was standing. Victor took his hand to steady him and Yuuri blushed, but didn’t pull away as he bent to untie his laces. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Your parents let me know they’d be speaking with your grandfather this morning. I relayed a message to my father late last night. Soon they’ll descend upon us, or we’ll be summoned to them. I would like to make sure we’ll stand as a united front. So, I would like to know your feelings on several key points.” Victor spoke in a cool voice that sounded rather clinical for Yuuri’s taste. 

He knew that the business of marriage among families like theirs was often just that… a business. But it made him uncomfortable to think of what he’d agreed to do--marrying Victor--as something that must be so coldly negotiated. 

Up until now, Victor had been very open and surprisingly emotional with Yuuri about his desires and expectations. It was strange to hear him suddenly act so distant. “What points are those?” Yuuri asked equally cooly, unsure how to take this change without responding in kind. He pulled his skates off, toed into his sneakers, and looked up at Victor with raised brows.

Victor looked slightly abashed as he said, “I shouldn’t put you on the spot like this. Let’s talk about it while you eat breakfast. Do you want to go to the snack bar?”

Yuuri nodded and told himself not to be so touchy. He also told himself to keep better track of his meals, so Victor wouldn’t have to worry so much about him. 

“Do you want to change first?” Victor seemed nervous now and Yuuri wished he’d just been pleasant about the whole thing. Of course Victor would treat the situation with some detachment, it was an arranged marriage, not...Yuuri wasn’t sure what he wanted it to be.

“No, I don’t need to. If you don’t mind,” Yuuri answered, indicating his sweaty clothes, and hating how officious a track they seemed to have got themselves on.

“Not at all,” Victor said and they both lapsed into silence for the remainder of the short walk into town and the snack bar.

Yuuri ordered some fruit and three rice balls. Victor cast him a bemused look and got himself a pastry, though on the way he’d said that he’d already eaten.

“I don’t mean to be cold about the arrangements,” Victor said once they sat down with their food. “It’s only that...you may have guessed my father and I are not close. In feeling and, I’m starting to understand, in thinking. There are...other members of your family I could have chosen at his request--”

Yuuri made a noise to indicate he was fully aware of _that_.

Victor flashed him a small smile before continuing, “I would like to make the beginning of our life together as smooth as possible. I would like very much to pick my battles between my father and myself and not between the two of us.”

Yuuri leaned his chin on his hand. “You mean between your father and us. We’ll fight together, right?”

Victor paused in the dismantling of his pastry. He was getting crumbs all over his tray. “I--yes,” he said after a moment. “Together.”

“What are the things? That you think I might not like?”

“My father will expect you to renounce your Japanese title,” Victor said and turned back to tearing apart the pastry.

“Oh,” Yuuri said. That made sense. Except, there was a pang in his chest when he thought about the idea. It wasn’t the title so much that he cared for. It was that with the title, he imagined, he’d be required to renounce his ties to Japan and to his family, to embrace fully his role as a servant and scion of Imperial Russia. 

He asked Victor as much and tried very hard not to look dismayed when Victor replied, “Yes, your loyalties as well. Your grandfather will be against it, though, so I think perhaps we can win this battle, Yuuri. You’d like to keep it, wouldn’t you?”

Yuuri nodded, not trusting himself to speak, wondering at the depth of feeling those ties had unearthed inside him.

“Often when titles are renounced, the marrying party is coming from a place of weakness, disadvantage. But Japan is very strong. It’s one of the reasons Father is so intent on an alliance. Your grandfather will want to see you represent his interests in Russia and it will be easier for you to do that if you retain your title. I think though, this will be an argument you will have to make. I can be seen to indulge you,” he smiled, as though indulging Yuuri was the only thing he’d like to be doing, “But I can’t officially take your side by appealing to my father on your behalf.”

Yuuri frowned. All this already seemed so complicated. 

Victor stiffened at Yuuri’s expression and brought up his hands. He reached across the table, but seemed to stop himself from touching Yuuri. “I’m sorry to be bringing this up so soon...but…”

“It’s all right,” Yuuri said softly. “I’m happy that you did.” He looked up at Victor and tried very hard to put on a brave face. “You see, none of this had occurred to me. I’ll need this. Need you to help me, Victor. Without you, I won’t know what to do.”

Victor took his hands and squeezed. “You won’t be without me,” he said.

For the rest of the day they wandered Hasetsu and talked about their plans. The next morning, Victor skated with Yuuri and they laughed at each other’s attempts to do jumps and fancy spins. They stayed on the ice far too long and worked up enough of a sweat that they immediately went into the hot spring upon their arrival back at the Castle.

They didn’t realize that Yuuri’s grandfather had arrived until his parents pulled him out of the hot spring, threw some clothes on him, and pushed him into a room full of his clearly irritated family members. Without Victor.

“O-ojii-sama,” Yuuri stammered and bowed low. His grandfather stood in the center of the castle’s banquet hall, flanked by two of his older sons and three of Yuuri’s cousins. They all looked incredibly angry. 

Yuuri hadn’t been expecting this. 

“Prince Yuurihito,” Grandfather said in his deep voice. He was a small man, but growled like a fisherman and spoke only to his family--unless it was a public event--in the most informal language possible. “Where’s your engagement ring?”

“Uhm,” Yuuri said, trying to stop his knees from shaking. He’d almost completely forgotten how scared he was of his grandfather’s anger. It had been so long since he’d done anything at all noticeable at court, let alone anything to make anybody upset with him. 

“I came here because I heard you were engaged to be married, Yuurihito. Is that true?”

Yuuri knew that his parents were in the room, behind him, with their backs against the door--perhaps so he couldn’t run away screaming--but he also knew that he couldn’t get any help from them. When Grandfather asked you a question, it was you and only you who would answer. “Y-yes, I am engaged Ojii-sama. I don’t have a ring, yet. There is a ceremony that Victor--”

“Victor!” Grandfather boomed. Yuuri winced. “Victor Nikiforov! How long has he been sniffing around your skirts, Yuurihito? How long have they been planning this--this--” He seemed to decide not to say what he thought it was, so Yuuri really had no idea. Yuuri had thought, if Grandfather wouldn’t be happy, he’d at least be indifferent--as he was with most of the things Yuuri had chosen to do with his life.

“I don’t know what you mean, Oji--”

“Of course, you don’t!” Grandfather cried, raising his hands, with one still holding his cane, in the air. “Not you! You wouldn't know at all. Toshihito, how long?”

Yuuri’s father replied, “The Grand Duke arrived only three days ago, Father. He’s never come before.”

“Hmmph,” Grandfather said, making a disbelieving face. “You met him in America, then!”

Yuuri shook his head vehemently as soon as he realized Grandfather was talking to him again. “N-no. We met once. He reminded me. At Norihito’s wedding. But _everyone_ met him then. I swear, I didn’t see him again until he arrived here, Ojii-sama.”

“And then you just agreed to marry him.” It wasn’t quite a question, but Grandfather seemed intent on an answer.

Yuuri felt stricken. Shouldn’t he have? He was Victor’s choice. Had his family been harboring other plans for him? For Victor? “Yes,” he answered helplessly. 

“What did he tell you? What did he say to convince you? The Nikiforovs are cunning, Yuurihito. What he says can’t be taken at face value,” Grandfather leaned forward and peered into Yuuri’s eyes. He added under his breath but loud enough for all to hear, “What his father says certainly can’t.”

“Oh,” Yuuri couldn’t stop himself from saying. Victor had known that his father likely wanted another match. Perhaps he hadn’t realized the Tsar had already made promises to other members of Yuuri’s family. 

“Oh!” Yasuhito, the tallest, but younger of Yuuri’s handsome and successful cousins cried. “Oh, what, Yuuri-kun? Oh, you just remembered a time when Nikiforov climbed in your bed and whispered poison in your ear? Or, oh, you just realized how thoroughly you’re ruining everybody else’s fucking plans!”

Yuuri shrank back as Grandfather swiftly turned to rap Yasuhito across the shoulders with his cane. “Shut up,” he shouted. “Where is Nikiforov?”

It again took much too long for Yuuri to realize Grandfather was speaking to him. When the old man’s eyes bulged and he raised his cane once more--though he was nowhere near Yuuri--Yuuri threw up his hands and said, “I-I’m not sure, Ojii-sama!”

“Well, go get him. I want to talk to this boy who thinks he can go around handing out marriage proposals behind my back.” Grandfather cast his eyes about the room then barked, “Toshihito, get me a chair. Chairs for everyone. Let’s do this right.”

Yuuri fled the room.

 

Victor hovered anxiously outside the room where Yuuri's parents had taken him. It was clear the Emperor was now in residence. People bustled about the place, cleaning floors and passing papers and cellphones to each other.

Minako showed up about five minutes after Victor planted his feet outside the door. She leaned against the wall to the left of the chamber. Victor joined her, feeling a small kinship with her now that she was one of the few people he'd actually been introduced to in this strange house.

Victor's heart was hammering in his chest. He'd just been caught in a lie. He took a chance and said to Minako, “I told him I’d be by his side. Every step of the way.”

Minako cast him a sidelong glance, as though she wasn't sure why they were speaking, but she had to go along with it because he was the Grand Duke. “Well, that was a stupid thing to promise.”

Victor clenched his teeth. She was right and it stung.

He said nothing and he supposed she took that as license to continue talking to him. Her rudeness didn’t quite seem uncharacteristic, but he was still surprised by it. Perhaps it was his own fault, as he'd invited her inspection. He was the one who’d stood next to her, as though she were a friend. “You like him,” she said. “Don’t you? Like, you really like him, like him.”

Victor scowled at her. “He’s what I wanted. He’s my choice.”

Her brows raised, but the expression in her eyes said that a suspicion of hers had been confirmed. “They won’t see it like that. His family.”

“They don’t have to.” Victor crossed his arms.

She crossed her arms too and pushed off from the wall, turning to look him straight on. “They're going to think you picked him because he’ll be easy to control. He’s too trusting. He knows this. They know. You know. He’d let you walk all over him.”

“I’m not going to do that. That isn’t what this is about.”

“I’m surprised you’re such an idealist, Your Imperial Highness. They have no way of knowing that. To the world, you’re your father’s son and from what I’ve heard, he’s a first class bastard.”

Victor stared at her in surprise.

“My apologies,” she said, bowing slightly. “The Emperor makes me nervous. I get honest when I’m nervous.”

“How unfortunate for you,” Victor replied. In the next moment, Yuuri came barrelling out of the banquet hall. As the doors slammed behind him, he looked around wildly, chest heaving as though he’d just run a marathon. Victor moved towards him, but he spooked like a cat and backed away three steps down the corridor. “Yuuri,” Victor said quietly, his heart pounding at the desperate expression on Yuuri’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Victor,” Yuuri said breathless, after a moment of seeming to not see him. “I’m supposed to find you.” Then he burst into tears.

Victor wasn’t aware of taking the steps necessary to pull Yuuri into his arms, but soon enough, that's where Yuuri was. It took him far too long to realize that Minako was tugging at his shoulder as Yuuri clung to him. “Get him out of the hallway,” she said, pointing to a room a few feet away. “There’s are a lot more staff around now that the Emperor is here. It’s unseemly.”

Some time later, once Yuuri and Victor were seated on pillows on the floor of an empty storage room, and Yuuri had been calmed down to embarrassed sniffles, Victor finally was able to ask, “What happened?”

Yuuri wiped miserably at his nose. “I didn’t think they would care,” he said numbly. “I really didn’t. I thought, they might be happy. To have the alliance. To get rid of me, even.”

Victor tensed. “They’re not?” He’d thought at least they’d play at being happy. For Yuuri’s sake and for politeness to Victor.

Yuuri’s eyes were wide, still shocked, “Victor, they’re really angry. I don’t think they want me to marry you at all. My grandfather--I’ve never seen him so angry. I-I think they thought...Yasuhito acted as though I’d taken something from him.”

“Fuck,” Victor spat. Yuuri’s mouth dropped open.

What had the Tsar been thinking? Victor’s thoughts ran wildly. If he’d made promises to the Japanese--to one Prince in particular--why in the world would he have given Victor such a vague directive? Victor couldn’t really have been given free reign to choose, if the Emperor and his favorites were so upset now with Yuuri? Victor had known he'd acted hastily by coming here, but now it seemed he'd acted foolishly as well. How could he have thought he should take a directive from his father at face value? Especially one that gave Victor any power at all?

“I’m so sorry, Yuuri,” Victor said. He drew his hands up and down Yuuri’s arms, trying to soothe him. “I knew my father had plans that were...not aligned with my own, but I hadn’t thought he would have…well, it hardly matters. My choice remains the same.” He looked Yuuri right in the eyes.

“But--if no one wants us to…”

“ _You_ are my choice, Yuuri. I won’t make another in your family.” _Not now_ , Victor thought darkly, if this was how they treated Yuuri.

Yuuri clung to the lapels of Victor’s suit jacket. His eyes were worried. “That seems hasty.”

“It may to some,” Victor replied.

“It will to _everyone_ , Victor,” Yuuri insisted. “I didn’t even think about it. You convinced me and it seemed perfectly natural. But Ojii-sama--he thinks you courted me somehow. Tracked me down in America and wooed me over months--longer maybe! Like this is all some diabolical plan! Is it?”

“No. Hush,” Victor said and drew his hand to cradle the a back of Yuuri’s head.

“I didn’t want them to be angry,” Yuuri went on heedlessly. “I’ve never made them angry before. It’s a big family. Someone’s always in trouble. But never me. I’m…”

Victor squeezed at the back of Yuuri’s neck and Yuuri shifted, unconsciously, further into Victor’s lap. “You’re what?”

Yuuri made a face. “Nobody.”

“That’s not true,” Victor told him. He spoke near Yuuri’s ear, in a tender voice, that he hoped conveyed the depth of his sincerity. “It’s only that you haven’t been given time to show them. These cousins who are so angry, they’re older than you, aren’t they?”

“Twenty-six and twenty-seven,” Yuuri answered, looking off into the distance. Victor squeezed his neck again, only gently, and Yuuri’s eyes snapped to his.

“They have had much more time than you to become ‘somebody’, Yuuri. And your worth is not measured in your accomplishments. Or in how they think of you,” Victor said.

Yuuri blinked. “You’re pretty good at pep talks,” he said sheepishly and looked down again. He seemed to suddenly realize how and where they were sitting, and, of course, moved himself away from Victor’s embrace immediately.

Victor suppressed a sigh and smiled at his betrothed. “The Emperor wants to see me?” he asked.

Yuuri nodded. “What are we going to do?”

Victor ran his fingers through the short hairs at the back of Yuuri’s head, then raised his other hand to cradle his head between his palms. He wanted to kiss this boy very badly, but he thought Yuuri had already had enough of a shock very recently. “I’m so sorry, Yuuri. It seems we will have to fight for this union, rather than simply negotiate its arrangement. I’ve made a blunder here, but I want you to know I don’t regret it. Do you?”

Yuuri, with determination in his eyes, shook his head no.

“So,” Victor continued, “we will show them what they want to see and keep our cards close to our chests,” Victor replied.

Yuuri frowned. “You will be duplicitous and I will play dumb?”

Victor laughed. “I will _seem_ duplicitous.”

“And I’ll still play dumb,” Yuuri said glumly.

Victor couldn’t resist. He kissed Yuuri’s forehead. A pretty blush fell across Yuuri’s cheeks. “The better to shock them all when they realize how formidable you are,” Victor told him.

Yuuri looked uncomfortable, but didn’t disagree. “Well, we’d better not keep him waiting, I guess.”

 

They had arranged the chairs in the room for an audience, as if the royal family were on a dais, though it was not raised above the floor. The elderly Emperor sat in the middle, his cane hung on his knees like a sword encased in a scabbard. His two eldest sons, Masahito and Hirahito sat on either side of him, flanked by their own sons, Yuuri's impressive cousins. 

Yasuhito, who Yuuri had mentioned, had been the first prince to be crossed off Victor's list. He was the second son of the Crown Prince Masahito, and formidable intellect, certainly. He had earned himself a law degree before his appointment as the royal intermediary for an international clean water organization. But Victor was 80% sure he had a girlfriend he was trying to keep secret from his family. She was an actress and not suitable at all for an Imperial marriage. 

Victor couldn’t say he had never thought about the benefits of an open marriage, but a hiding a secret mistress was probably the least effective way possible to start a successful relationship.

The other cousin, Fumihito, was the head of a similar environmental foundation, but for the preservation of national parks, which would be laudable, if the prince in question ran the organization in anything but name only. He was a layabout and a playboy--inasmuch as his grandfather would allow that kind of behavior to be public--and only did enough to keep up appearances of wealth and success.

Both princes lived in the family compound in Tokyo, which Victor realized he now found rather distastefully isolationist. This was not something he had ever thought about prior to meeting Yuuri's family and seeing the way they lived and interacted with their community. Victor had gone from being in the thick of academia for almost a decade to the staid halls of his father’s palace, where no one but courtiers and members of the government tread. He hadn’t understood quite how jarring a transition it had been until he came to Hasetsu and saw how differently Yuuri’s family lived.

Both of Yuuri’s cousins looked remarkably like him--despite their sequestered upbringing--though their expressions were caught in varying degrees between cooly neutral and artfully sneering.

Victor dismissed them with a glance and focused his attention on the Emperor, to whom he bowed deeply. He had met this man just over ten years before and the ruler looked hardly any different--perhaps a bit more white hair than gray, but still vital. He held a large amount of irritation behind his eyes, though his expression was forcefully serene. His lips were forged into a small smile as a member of his staff announced, "Heir Tsesarevich, the Grand Duke Victor Nikiforov."

Yuuri, who came to stand just slightly behind Victor and to his right, was not announced. Though that was hardly unusual, as he'd just been in and then thrown out of the room.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” Victor intoned, in Japanese, with a smile. “I am honored to be in your presence.”

“We thank you, Your Imperial Highness,” the Emperor said with rote grace. “How do you find your stay our son’s home?”

Victor beamed. “Splendid and charming, Your Imperial Majesty.” At least he could be honest about this. “The estate is beautifully maintained. Your grandson has been very kind to show me about the grounds and the town here. It is all quite lovely.”

The Emperor nodded, but something hard lurked in his eyes. “I see that Yuurihito has been _most_ welcoming to you.” He’d dispensed with the formal courtly language fairly quickly, which was encouraging.

Victor inclined his head towards his betrothed. “Very much so.”

Someone to the side of the Emperor gave an indiscreet cough. Victor did not allow his expression to change, nor did he look away from the Emperor. He could feel the tension in Yuuri just behind him, but did not give in to the temptation to reach out and grip his hand.

“You must give my regards to your father, the Tsar, Your Imperial Highness. Have you spoken with him recently?” The Emperor’s question, in English now, sounded innocuous, but Victor knew better. 

He replied, following the Emperor’s suit in a language foreign to both of them, “Not directly, Your Imperial Majesty.” There. An admission that Victor was acting, however much he was able, alone.

“I see,” the Emperor said.

Victor let a sly smile play briefly across his lips as he made his first feint. He said, “Do you not wish to congratulate me, Your Imperial Majesty?”

“There are a great many things that will need to be discussed, young man, before congratulations are in order,” The Emperor growled.

“Really?” Victor asked as though that hadn’t occurred to him. “It seems to me that a proposal from someone such as myself would be seen as a great honor to Prince Yuurihito, and, of course, to your family.”

The Emperor’s smile was tight. “Indeed, it is,” he said. Yasuhito, who sat to the Emperor’s left, though his father sat between them, was practically vibrating, he so clearly wanted to speak. The Emperor, fast as lightning, picked up his cane and brought it down hard on Yaushito’s jittering knees. “Enough,” he cried. “Everyone out. Except you,” he pointed at Victor. “And you,” he pointed at Yuuri. 

Victor did not move as the herd of men, all clad in sleek black suits, stood up from their chairs, grumbling, and parted around him and Yuuri as they walked out of the room. He raised his brows and glanced briefly at Yuuri, who gave him a blank, uncertain look. This was an unexpected move.

When the door closed behind the rest of Yuuri’s family, the Emperor glared at Victor and said, “Out with it, boy. What are you playing at?”

Victor sniffed, thrown off guard now that the old man clearly wanted to dispense with pleasantries all together, as well as the royal courtesy that was due them both. “I’m sure I--”

“I’m too old for this garbage and I would actually like to see this alliance pull through, Victor Nikiforov,” the Emperor said, pounding his fist on the armrest of his chair. “Tell me why I had your father on the phone a week ago talking about you and one of those two playboys I just sent out of the room. Tell me why you are here with this little lamb and not paying me my due respect in Tokyo.”

Victor hesitated. Wouldn’t simply telling the truth be too easy, now that his hopes for a simple choice, with someone he genuinely enjoyed, and little complication, had all been dashed?

Yuuri tugged at Victor’s sleeve. Victor, startled, turned to stare at him. Yuuri said quietly, “Ojii-sama is cranky and old, Victor, but he is fair.”

Victor frowned. Yuuri surely had too rosy a view of his grandfather’s attitude. They were family after all. Yuuri was a kind person, who would absolutely look for the benefit of the doubt within his own clan. Should Victor rely on Yuuri’s assertions as truth? Could he, and not set a dangerous precedent in the eyes of the Emperor? That he was weak and foolish? That he would allow one softly spoken sentence from Yuuri to sway him from his course?

“Victor,” Yuuri said again breathlessly. Victor, having checked the Emperor’s patient reaction and attention to their quiet aside, slowly turned back to Yuuri, who he realized was staring up at him with wide doe-eyes and honest-to-goodness batted lashes. He was standing much closer to Victor than he had been only a moment before and he was, just barely, pouting his lips. _How wonderfully clever_ , Victor thought, as Yuuri said, “I really think if you just tell Ojii-sama what happened--”

Yuuri stopped speaking when Victor took his hand gently and raised it to his lips. That pretty flush returned to Yuuri’s cheeks and Victor did not bother to hide his grin. “I will trust you, then, my dear,” Victor said. 

He delighted as Yuuri bit his lip and reddened further, clearly not expecting an endearment. Victor made a note to himself to chide his betrothed on being prepared to follow through with gambits such as these. 

He turned to the Emperor and said, as sincerely as he possibly could, “I will tell you, Your Imperial Majesty, that I am here without my father’s consent because I am afraid that I am falling in love with your grandson.”


	2. Chapter 2

Yuuri’s heart just about stopped as soon as the words left Victor’s lips.

_I am afraid that I am falling in love with your grandson._

This was not at all what Yuuri had thought Victor would do when he sidled close to him and made the pouty eyes. Not at all. Yuuri thought that Victor would allow Yuuri’s entreaty to soften his approach, would let himself open up about his parents and his true wish for the emotional as well as political alliance they both thought they could achieve.

Instead, Victor had brushed his lips across Yuuri’s knuckles, in front of his elderly grandfather. And was still holding his hand. 

“You are, are you?” Grandfather said dubiously. His eyes narrowed, like a hawk’s spying a kill. He tapped his cane on the floor and the noise echoed through the empty banquet hall. He pointed the end of the cane’s handle at Yuuri, “He said, until three days ago, you hadn’t spoken since Norihito’s wedding.”

“We haven’t,” Victor replied, smiling. “It was something like love at first sight.”

Yuuri stiffened. He grabbed at Victor’s arm, but Victor was already saying, “It was the video he posted--

“What video?” Grandfather barked. “Pictures only! Videos are forbidden!”

“Really?” Victor blurted. Yuuri thought he must have truly been surprised, and evidently charmed, because he turned to Yuuri and said it again. “Really, Yuuri? You weren’t supposed to post that video?”

Yuuri gulped. “Uh, n-not, uhm, publically.” Grandfather thought that too much could be revealed in a video. Pictures could be curated, and altered, much more easily than video. But Yuuri had been proud of his routine, and eager to reach out to a world he thought was passing him by in sleepy old Hasetsu. He also had never really had that many followers. He hadn’t thought anyone would notice.

Victor beamed at him. “See, you are brave.”

Yuuri tried to calm his breathing, but his heart was beating so fast, he thought he might pass out--and they weren’t even in the hot springs this time. He was about to say something stupid like, _no, I’m not_ , when Grandfather said, “So you saw him--doing what?”

“Ice skating,” Victor replied with a warm smile. It seemed genuine. Yuuri wasn’t sure what was an act anymore and he was feeling increasingly anxious about that.

“You’re still doing that?” Grandfather barked at Yuuri.

“Yes, Ojii-sama,” Yuuri replied in a voice that sounded much too panicked.

Grandfather huffed. “Good exercise, at least,” he said, then turned back to Victor. “So you saw him ice skating and fell in love with him?”

Victor inclined his head. “Well, that would be silly, wouldn’t it? No, I decided I had to meet him and now I am in the process of falling in love.”

Grandfather sat back a little in his chair, seeming to look at Victor in some kind of new light. He waited a long moment before asking, “Your father?”

“Shares about as much with me as he does with you, Your Imperial Majesty. I was given what I thought was a test and an order all in one. I followed it to the letter but also to my own wishes. I desire that Yuurihito become my husband for the ties the match will bring to my family and my country, and because I believe he is a good man who will be a good husband and co-ruler.”

Grandfather’s eyes flashed. “Co-ruler?”

“I do not speak for my father, but neither do I stutter,” Victor said solemnly.

“This is a delicate and dangerous game you are playing, young man,” Grandfather intoned.

Victor still held Yuuri’s hand. “I know it,” he said.

They stood in tense silence until finally, the Emperor said, "Well, I'll have to think about it. Now, get out of here. I'll bet you two conspirators have plenty to talk about and I want to soak in the hot springs. Only good reason for coming to this damned backwater. We'll do a dinner tonight--black tie--because I want to see you in formal wear together. If you're not photogenic enough, I'll stop this train right now."

Victor bowed slightly. "You have nothing to worry about, I'm sure, Your Imperial Majesty."

"Hmph," Grandfather said and stood. "Get someone to put a photographer on you too. I want to see what the media will see."

Victor glanced at Yuuri inquiringly. Yuuri stammered, "I-I'll ask Minako. Thank you, Ojii-sama."

"I haven't agreed to anything yet," Grandfather said. "Now, go on!"

Yuuri hurriedly bowed and then forced himself not to bolt from the room again. Victor walked calmly at his heels. Once they were out of the double doors, Yuuri grabbed Victor's hand. "I want to talk to you," he said. "Let's go to my--”

"Your Imperial Highness," Minako said from further along the corridor behind them.

"Yes," Victor turned and spoke at the same moment Yuuri croaked, "What?"

She blinked and said, “I was speaking to the Grand Duke.”

“What is it?” Victor asked, not quite patiently. His shoulders were tight and stiff, as if he were bracing for a blow. Yuuri set a hand on his shoulder and he stiffened further before relaxing slightly.

“Only that we’ve received two more guests from St. Petersburg. They say that they are in your, ah, retinue.” Minako had a clipboard clutched against her breasts and looked incredibly stressed out. “The Princes Nikolai and Yuri Plisetsky of the House Rurik,” she said. “You do know them, don’t you?”

“Oh,” Victor said, his eyes widening in surprise. “I didn’t think--yes, I know them. Retinue is a little bit of a strong word for it, but…”

“They also brought a,” Minako began, but was cut off by the sound of...a dog barking? Victor stiffened again, but then a huge grin broke across his face as he looked past Minako and knelt, holding his arms open wide for the rather large poodle that had just appeared around the corner to run into.

“Makkachin!” Victor cried. “What a good dog you are. Yes. Yes. Oh my goodness.” He looked up, beaming, as he scratched behind the dog’s ears and said, “Yuuri, this is Makkachin, my beloved dog.”

Yuuri smiled crookedly in spite of his surprise and held his hand out for Makkachin to sniff. He felt a soft pull in his heart. He’d always wanted a dog, but had never really gotten up the courage to ask his parents for one. “Nice to meet you, Makkachin,” he said and drew his fingers through the curling fur on the top of the dog’s head. “You’re very beautiful.” Victor’s smile had not faded.

"I've shown our new guests into the suite nearest yours, Your Imperial Highness. They are presently changing and resting after their travels. I did mention the hot springs, but I was not sure if they would be partaking,” Minako said.

"They will want to speak with me, undoubtedly,” Victor replied, standing. He turned to Yuuri. “Did you wish to talk first?”

Yuuri made a face. “I-I wouldn’t want to keep you from your family,” he said.

“Oh, they aren’t family,” Victor said easily. “They’re courtiers. They are from the old Russian nobility. Older than even my House. Prince Kolya is the right-hand of my father. Prince Yuri is his grandson. I have no idea what he’s doing here.” Victor paused and huffed a gentle laugh. “How funny. There are now two Yuris in my life.”

Yuuri felt distinctly uncomfortable about there being another Yuri and about how amusing Victor seemed to find it. He looked down. “You’ll want to talk to them. I don’t mind waiting.”

Victor tilted his head. Makkachin danced between them, wagging his curly tail. “I want to talk to you, if you want to talk, Yuuri.”

Yuuri, of course, dithered. “Well,” he said. “I mean if you want, but really it’s no--”

“Let’s go to my room,” Victor said, grabbing Yuuri’s hand and pulling him down the corridor.

Yuuri hadn’t been sure where Victor had been placed when he arrived at Hasetsu Castle and he was not quite surprised to see that he’d been given the best suite in the castle. That had been days before the Emperor and his retinue arrived. Yuuri cringed, realizing how angry Ojii-sama and the rest of the family must have been to be relegated to second-tier rooms, farther from the hot springs and the gardens.

“It’s a lovely view,” Victor said after he’d motioned for Makkachin to lay down in the corner, unaware of Yuuri’s steadily increasing anxiety. “What would you like to talk about?”

Yuuri could barely remember. He had no idea how he was going to keep up, stay sane even, living his life with Victor, who seemed so unfazed by the social and emotional rollercoaster that was dealing with governments and royalty and everything else.

“I don’t think my tuxedo fits,” he blurted and immediately reddened. “Oh, God,” Yuuri cried and sat down on the floor before he fell down.

Victor walked slowly towards him and knelt. “Well, that’s all right, Yuuri,” he said softly. “I’m sure we can ask Minako for a tailor. We can’t forget to ask her about the photographer, either.”

Yuuri put his face in his hands. Victor pulled them away and looked right into his eyes. “Stop freaking out,” he said.

“You can’t just say that and make it happen!” Yuuri’s heart was pounding again. Victor was so close to him, had been close to him so much today.

Victor smiled. “Well, I figured things happen when I ask for them often enough, that it was worth a try.”

Yuuri couldn’t help himself, he burst out laughing. Luckily, he surmised as soon as Victor began to chuckle as well, that it had been Victor’s goal the whole time.

When they both calmed down, Victor said, in the same quiet, almost cajoling tone that had convinced Yuuri to go along with him back on the beach, “I know you aren’t used to such scrutiny, Yuuri. I know it hurts to have your family upset with you. Please, never hesitate to demand my attention. You are worthy of it.”

A breath rattled in Yuuri’s throat. He would not cry again. “T-thank you,” he said.

Victor’s smile faded a little. “Thank you for not backing out of our arrangement.”

Yuuri caught his hands, so fast he thought he surprised them both. “I wouldn’t,” he replied seriously. “I _won’t_.” And as soon as he spoke, he realized it was the truth. “I’m so so worried about it, though.”

“I can see that,” Victor said and threaded his fingers through Yuuri’s. Yuuri marvelled at the fondness in his tone. “Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

Yuuri probably should have hesitated. It definitely didn’t really matter. They were going to do this anyway. But he asked, breathlessly, “Are you really falling in love with me? Or did you just tell Ojii-sama that to--”

Yuuri was cut off by someone kicking open the door to Victor’s suite. He recoiled in shock and horror as Victor moved immediately to position himself in front of Yuuri. Victor muttered, “ _Derr’mo_ ,” under his breath, which Yuuri was fairly sure was a curse word.

Yuuri peered around Victor’s broad back to see a boy, blond and skinny, with the hood of his red hoodie pulled up over his head. He was standing in the doorway, chest heaving, as though he’d just run a mile, or was exceptionally angry. Yuuri thought it was probably the latter, as his brows were drawn down over his very blue eyes, and he was scowling. He said something in Russian to Victor.

“Yes, it seems you have found me,” Victor replied in a low voice, in English. “Did you knock down every door in this castle while you were looking?”

The boy scoffed a reply. Yuuri realized he probably should have thought of the fact that he knew about five words in Russian before he’d accepted Victor’s proposal.

“Speak so that Prince Yuurihito may understand you,” Victor said, his tone a calm whipcrack. 

The boy sneered something that must have been a resounding, “no,” and probably a “fuck you,” as well, from his expression. Victor didn’t seem phased by the boy’s appalling rudeness. 

“Your English is flawless and your Japanese passable at least. Show him what they’re teaching you at my esteemed alma mater,” Victor spoke, strangely in almost the same tone that he’d used on his dog.

“You can’t marry this idiot,” the boy said, glaring between Victor and Yuuri. “It’s an incredibly stupid thing to do. And you’re not stupid, Vitya.”

Victor stood then and did not reply, apparently deciding it wasn’t worth it to argue. He turned to help Yuuri up off the floor. He bent to dust off parts of Yuuri’s dress pants and shirt, then his own. The boy looked on in increasing disgust and then called down the corridor outside the room, “ _Dedulya_ , I found him. He’s here with the idiot.”

A moment later a tall older man stepped into the doorway to Victor’s suite and said with a heavy accent, “In English, then?”

“The Tsesarevich insists,” the boy replied primly.

“Come inside and we will talk,” Victor told them both. He stepped slightly to the side and motioned to his guests, “Prince Yuurihito of Kyushu, may I present Prince Nikolai Nikolaevich Plisetsky of House Rurik and his grandson, Prince Yuri Nikolaevich Plisetsky. Their family hails from Moscow, but Prince Kolya, as we call him, is Chief Advisor to the Tsar. Our families are close allies and friends.” 

Yuuri inclined his head, and remembering his manners and--he hoped--appropriate protocol, he said, “Welcome to Japan, to Kyushu, and to my father’s home, Your Highnesses. I am very pleased to meet you both.” He did not bow, but inclined his head to both of them. 

Victor said, “Within even the highest ranks of my family’s close staff, we can be quite informal. Do you mind if the Princes Plisetsky call you Yuuri, in private, as I do?”

Yuuri blinked then smiled. Almost no one called him Yuurihito during his regular life. He was pretty sure most his friends at Harvard had no idea Yuuri was a nickname. “Of course not,” he said easily. “Please do.”

“Excellent,” Victor beamed. “Two Yuuri’s. How fun.”

At that, Prince Yuri looked as though he might have an aneurism.

“Your father will say your soft heart has landed you in trouble again, Vitya,” Prince Kolya said.

Victor seemed startled for a moment before he asked softly, “And what do you think, Kolya?”

“He can smile and he can talk, at least a little. He’s not a god damned lawyer,” Kolya spoke as he looked Yuuri over. Prince Yuri rolled his eyes.

“You’d prefer the playboy, then, for me?” Victor’s tone was light, but there was an edge to it that Yuuri had never heard before. He thought that was odd, especially since Victor has just said how close their families were.

“He’d be easy to control,” Kolya said, almost lazily. Yuuri glanced sharply between him and Victor. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be labelled easy or hard to control with the next turn of their conversation.

“He’d be an embarrassment almost immediately. Turn that disaster loose in St. Petersburg? The only reason he hasn’t been photographed falling out of a totalled sports car is that they’ve sequestered the whole clan inside their Imperial Compound,” Victor said heatedly. 

Yuuri was surprised at the accuracy of his assessment of Fumihito, who he distinctly remembered had driven a golf cart off the course last year during Golden Week. That incident had been hidden from the press, as no cameras appeared in the compound unless under Grandfather’s express orders.

“Except this one,” Kolya said, nodding at Yuuri.

“Yes,” Victor replied. He looked over at Yuuri and his eyes seemed to say, _I’m so sorry we’re talking about you like this_. Yuuri wasn’t sure if he’d prefer they just speak in Russian, but he thought it was probably better to know what they were saying.

“Is that why you want him?” Koyla asked.

Prince Yuri didn’t let Victor answer. He strode over to Victor, but seemed to be talking to his grandfather as he cried, “It doesn’t matter what he’s like or why Vitya wants him. Tell him he’s stupid, _Dedulya_. He needs a husband who will be his equal, not this idiot.”

Kolya finally seemed angry at his grandson’s impertinence, but before he could speak, Victor laughed. He shoved a finger, not quite playfully, into Yuri’s shoulder and said, his eyes cold, “And did you want the honor, little cat? Did you wish to see me wait and wait and pick you from all the crowned heads of the world?”

Yuri’s jaw dropped as he stumbled back a step, lifting his hands to steady, or to protect himself. After a moment of tense, absolute silence in the room, Yuri’s eyes blazed with fury as he growled, “Not fucking likely,” turned on his heel, and stalked out.

Victor turned to Yuuri. He suddenly seemed very remote and far too cold. “I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

Yuuri frowned at him. The million worries spinning in his head stopped suddenly. And one, single, fear overtook them all--what if Victor wasn’t what he seemed?

Yuuri said, “If what you said was true, Victor, it was terribly cruel. If it wasn’t, it was just plain mean.” He took a tight breath and shook his head. “I’m not sure I’d like to be present for any further discussion. I think I’ll go make those two requests we spoke of to Minako. Please excuse me.”

As he stepped from the room, resolutely not listening for any protests from Victor, he spied Yuri only a little way down the hall, lurking in another doorway. Yuuri approached cautiously. He had to go in this direction regardless. The boy bristled as he neared and spat, “Don’t think I’ll start to like you because you defended me, idiot. That was a stupid move anyway. Maybe Victor will see through your pretty face to your sentimental core. Morons like you don’t do well in the Winter Palace.”

Yuuri blinked. He was surprised he felt absolutely no threat from this spitting prince. But still, he was mystified. “What have I ever done to you, Prince Yuri, that you so dislike me?”

“He likes you too much,” Yuri growled. Yuuri thought he caught a glimpse of something like desperation in the prince’s eyes. “I saw his face when he watched your dumbass video. You’ll bury him. He’ll lose all credibility. Just quit while you’re ahead, okay?”

Yuuri felt himself straighten. Settling his shoulders, he gazed coolly at the boy and said, “No.”

“No?”

“I won’t quit because I’m afraid of your Winter Palace. And I certainly won’t quit because it’s _you_ telling me to.” He almost turned and walked away, but he added, staring Yuri down, “And if you speak like that to me in front of Victor, your grandfather, or any of my family...you’ll regret it.”

As threats go, it wasn’t much, but Yuuri wasn’t used to making them. Nor was he sure he wanted to be. Yuuri heard Yuri huff in disbelief at his back as he walked past, in search of Minako. 

He felt surprisingly calm now. He would find out the truth about Victor and his strange antagonistic family soon enough. If he didn’t like it, no one wanted the match anyway. And they hadn’t announced anything official yet. He could walk away from it, from Victor.

He would be breaking his promise, but Victor had already broken a promise to him--that he’d be by Yuuri’s side the whole time. Yuuri could do something else, go somewhere else, be someone else entirely. He was slowly realizing, he didn’t have to do what anybody expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Russian words I googled:  
> Derr'mo - shit  
> Dedulya - Grandpa  
> House Rurik - an ancient Russian dynasty. still styled as Princes in the present day.  
> Feel free to correct me, politely, in the comments!
> 
> Thanks to everyone for the comments. Come find me at this handle [norgbelulah] on tumblr and twitter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Yuuri must get back on the same page before they can prove to the Emperor their match is a good one.

“Too soft a heart,” Kolya said in Russian as Yuuri walked out of the room. “Much too soft for St. Petersburg.”

Victor scowled. He cut a glance at Kolya and crossed his arms defiantly. “Are you here to be helpful or did the Tsar really only send you to alienate my betrothed and endanger an alliance I understood to be years in the making?”

Kolya smirked. “You seem to be doing a fine job of that on your own, Vitya.”

Victor turned away and whistled for Makkachin, who obediently came from his resting place on the futon. Victor sunk to his knees and his fingers into Makkachin’s fur. His eyes burned, but he didn’t let Kolya see. 

He shouldn’t have said what he had to Yuri. 

It was a pointless jab. He’d just wanted the boy to stop insulting Yuuri and he’d acted on instinct, speaking the words that would cut the most. He didn’t think Yuri, titled Prince but not precisely royalty, had ever thought Victor would choose him. He did know that Yuri prized Victor’s opinion above that of anyone else and looked to him for approval before even his grandfather.

“Why did you bring Yuri?” Victor asked, turning to look up at Kolya. 

Kolya looked away and cleared his throat. “He hid in the trunk of the car,” he said, clearly embarrassed. It was a well kept secret that Yuri Plisetsky was the only person to whom his grandfather could not say no. 

“Who is soft-hearted now?” Victor asked softly, but he smiled as he spoke. He let his fingers drift over Makkachin’s head.

Kolya snorted, though Victor wasn’t entirely sure which part of their conversation he found amusing. “Yuri cares very much for your welfare.”

Victor gritted his teeth. “I’m aware of that,” he said. “It does not give him leave to insult my betrothed.”

“I’ll speak to him.” Kolya waited a moment then said, “So you have chosen.”

“As I said on the phone, yes, I have.” Victor stood and looked Kolya in the eyes. “I’m aware now of what my father’s favorites were. But I’ve made headway with the Emperor. He’s going to come around to the match with Yuuri. If we change course, we’ll lose everything.”

Kolya nodded, as though he expected no less. “You are like your father in this, then. A dog with his bone.”

Victor clenched his fist. “What do you mean by, ‘in this’?”

“The Lady Helena was no one’s first choice but your Father’s. Like him, you will have what you want, or nothing.” Kolya smiled then and Victor wanted to slap it off his face.

“I am nothing like my father,” he snapped, glaring daggers at the door.

Kolya took the hint and bowed before he stepped over the open threshold. “I will have someone see to the broken door, Your Imperial Highness. And you will have Prince Yuri’s apology shortly.”

Victor sighed and pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Let him stew. I’ll not have another row about Yuuri today, so I’ll have his apology when he means it. There’s to be a banquet tonight. If you’re my retinue, I suppose you had better come. Black tie, at the Emperor’s order. I assume someone will come and fetch us at the appropriate time.”

“Very good, Your Highness,” Kolya said, then he turned and walked away.

Victor waited about 15 seconds before he set off in search of Yuuri.

It took him another minute of walking down identical corridors to run into Yuuri, who gave him a rather cool look and said, “Oh, there you are.” There was a nervous looking man behind him, dressed in black exercise clothes and clutching a camera.

“Yes,” Victor said awkwardly in Japanese. 

Yuuri smiled briefly and responded in his own language, “Ojii-sama would like us to be photographed at the Ice Castle. This is Nishigori Takeshi. He’s married to Yuuko, who you’ve met. He’s also an amateur photographer.”

“Nice to meet you,” Victor offered.

Takeshi bowed deeply and mumbled something to Yuuri about meeting them down there.

“Should we change?” Victor asked Yuuri.

Yuuri shook his head. “No. Just put on your coat, I guess? Minako said that Ojii-sama’s man told her that we only needed to be doing something together. I suppose we could just as easily go for a walk.” He was watching Victor in a curious way, as though he wasn’t quite sure what he would do next, as though he had become a stranger again.

Victor was surprised to feel something caught in his throat, a swell of guilt that tasted of salt.

“No,” he choked out and stumbled over the foreign words, “skating is good.”

While his words lacked the eloquence Victor had strived to achieve in their previous conversations in Japanese, they did make Yuuri smile softly and nod as Victor turned back towards his room to get his coat.

As they circled the ice some time later, with Takeshi snapping pictures from behind the boards, Victor found himself at a loss. Yuuri was clearly upset with him, but trying to pretend he wasn’t. His eyes were somber and his small smile forced. When Victor reached for his hand--for the camera, at least--Yuuri was surprised into stiffness, so Victor let him go.

Victor knew he should apologize. But the slight had been done to Prince Yuri and Victor wasn’t entirely sure how to say what Yuuri needed to hear from him. He thought of Kolya comparing him to his father and decided it was probably best to go with the truth.

When Yuuri, perhaps remembering the camera, turned to face Victor, skating backwards, coyly, with his hands behind his back and forcing another smile, Victor said in English so he could make himself perfectly clear, “I told you my shortcomings weren’t very pretty.” He made sure to smile, because Takeshi was behind Yuuri, pointing the camera directly at Victor’s face.

Yuuri’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened. But he closed them both in the next moment and seemed to use his motion on the ice, each turn of the blades on his skates, to collect his thoughts. “You did,” he said quietly, eyes still closed.

Victor took that as an invitation to explain himself. He said, in careful tones, “You may have gathered that my father is not a nice man. His home and his court are not kind and they don’t suffer fools. There is power in cruelty, especially if it is exactingly wielded and if it results in arguments efficiently won.” Victor paused and took Yuuri’s hand. Yuri opened his eyes, not pausing in his smooth glide across the ice. 

Victor continued as he gazed into Yuuri’s curious eyes, “Prince Yuri holds me in high regard. He makes no true effort to hide that from me or from himself, despite his scoffing and scowling. My feelings, if I’m being honest--and I most especially want to be honest with you--are similarly fond. But he was insulting you, for reasons of his own that I can’t fathom, so I spoke without thinking and took the quickest route possible to make him stop. It was badly done and I am sorry for it. You may find it distasteful that I am most sorry my actions made you doubt me. But I told you, I want to be honest.”

“Prince Yuri thinks that I’m not good for you. That you like me too much to control me as you would have Fumihito,” Yuuri spoke softly, his eyes hooded, guarded. He let Victor continue to hold his hand.

“I wouldn’t have controlled the playboy,” Victor replied with some bite. “I wouldn’t have married him. He was Kolya’s choice and a short-sighted one.” Victor squeezed Yuuri’s hand and lifted his chin with the first two fingers of his free hand. “I’ve told you, I’m not playing their games when it comes to my marriage. I didn’t choose you for their reasons. I won’t try to control you. I only want to try--” 

Victor couldn’t continue, he felt as though he’d spoken of his hopes too much already. He was tempting fate. But as he broke off, something soft came into Yuuri’s eyes and he smiled.

“You want to try to love me,” he said. 

“Yes,” Victor agreed, suddenly breathless. He pulled Yuuri close to him. Their skates bumped together. They’d all but stopped moving. 

“Will you answer my question now?” Yuuri asked, his eyes wide and earnest. “The one that I asked before Yuri interrupted us.”

Victor knew the one he meant and he knew he had to answer. He was pleased--at least as much as he could be--that Yuuri was perceptive enough and practical enough to grasp that Victor could have been lying to the Emperor. He wasn’t entirely sure that Yuuri would be upset if he admitted he had lied. Even so, just before he’d spoken the words, he’d been certain it was a lie--a good one at that.

Once he had spoken, however, those words felt a lot more like the truth.

And again, Victor found himself telling Yuuri so much more than he meant to. He stood there on the ice and he said, “Yuuri, I respect you immensely for asking me this question. My mother took the Tsar at his word at every turn early in their marriage--or so she told me. And she felt betrayed again and again by his lies and half-truths. So much that the phrase I can most clearly hear of her voice in my head is, ‘Your father is a liar.’”

Yuuri looked stricken. “That’s terrible.”

“Well,” Victor said and smiled in a way he hoped was dashing. “It’s not as though it isn’t true. My father does a great deal of lying. As do I. Only, I won’t to you. Because never, for all the world, Yuuri, would I want a child of mine to hear that from your lips.”

If Yuuri was at all daunted by the prospect of their having a child together, he didn’t show it. “I wanted you to put on an act for Ojii-sama,” Yuuri admitted, that pretty blush coming back into his cheeks. “He’s a soft-heart for family and for romance. I have cousins, girls mostly, who have made love matches. They live outside of the Compound and the family, but he let them go. I thought, if he saw that we might really like each other…”

“It was a smart play,” Victor assured him. Privately, he was preening. With a little practice, Yuuri would be brilliant--even in the Winter Palace. “It worked didn’t it?”

Yuuri shook his head, as though he thought that it hadn’t. He clutched at Victor’s arms. “But I didn’t expect you to--is it true or not? Please tell me.”

“It was a lie,” Victor said in a rush. It wouldn’t do any good to further draw out the charade. Maybe Victor didn’t know, wasn’t sure. But Yuuri didn’t need dithering. He didn’t need Victor to be a weak foundation. “A lie I would very much like to become truth. In time.”

Yuuri’s expression had settled somewhere between crestfallen and relieved. “Yes,” he said slowly. “It’s--you’ve only been here, what? Three days? It feels like it’s been a lifetime, Victor.”

Victor smiled. He loved it when Yuuri said his name. He felt warm, as though a hot coal had been pressed into his belly and curled itself around his stomach. "May I kiss you again?" Victor asked.

"For the camera or because you want to?" Yuuri replied. His voice was playful but his eyes were cautious. Victor would have to remind himself to be careful. It really hadn’t been so long. The poor boy was still reeling from one desperate shock to another. And he thought, Yuuri must take after his grandfather. He really did want to be romanced.

Victor smiled. "Yes," he said.

Yuuri, thankfully, laughed as Victor pulled him close and their lips met in a brief, but tender kiss. Victor's hands felt electric as they settled on Yuuri's waist. Yuuri grasped Victor’s shoulders tightly. "I would show you better, my dear," Victor said in a low voice at Yuuri’s ear, "but the photos are for your grandfather."

Yuuri made a funny little noise in response that Victor was certain was another laugh. Then he turned his skates suddenly in a way that made a grinding sound and before Victor knew it, he was on his back on the ice. Yuuri had managed to fall slightly more gracefully, and so he was straddling Victor, with his knees and hands flat on the frozen surface. He looked down at Victor and grinned, his eyes squinting shut and his mouth open and, surprisingly, happy.

“You’re at my mercy,” Yuuri told him. 

It was a joke. It must be. Yuuri was still smiling.

Victor let his eyes dance from Yuuri’s curved smile to his warm gaze. “I am,” he whispered.

“And you promise you’ll tell me the truth when I ask?”

“I do.”

Yuuri’s smile fell slightly. “You promised you’d be with me the whole time.”

Victor raised his hand to Yuuri’s face, cupping it gently. “I’m sorry for that too. I worry I’ll make more foolish promises to you. Promises I won’t know I can’t keep. Not this one. I will always tell you the truth, Yuuri.”

Victor’s heart soared when Yuuri turned to press his lips to Victor’s palm. “All right,” he said.

“Hey, are you guys okay?” Takeshi called from across the ice.

Victor and Yuuri both exploded into laughter then got up and skated some more. They needed to make sure their photographer got just the right angle.

 

Yuuri looked at himself in the mirror after the tailor had gone. His tuxedo suit was cut slim in the leg and jacket, which had been the style when it was new. It was a few years old now, but his newest regardless. The jacket sported basic satin lapels, which he wore with an equally basic, though clearly well-made, tuxedo shirt. Yuuri had no idea what the style was now. He hardly paid attention to that kind of stuff.

He did look much slimmer in it than he had been fearing he would. He looked older, too, than he remembered since the last time he’d really paid attention. Yuuri wasn’t very vain--well, perhaps he was secretly much too vain--and avoided thinking about his appearance as much as possible.

He supposed all that was about to change. If he was going to be on Victor’s arm, he’d have to start thinking about how he looked all the time.

“Looks as though it fits fine,” Victor said from the doorway, making Yuuri jump. Victor smiled and said, “ _Gomen_.”

“No, no,” Yuuri replied and waved Victor inside. “The tailor’s come and gone,” he explained.

Victor was wearing a similarly slim tuxedo, which gave Yuuri hope he wasn’t too behind the fashion. On closer inspection, Yuuri realized Victor’s suit was actually a very dark charcoal grey. He wore a vest as well, rather than the traditional cumberbund that Yuuri had put on. His smile looked sharp and he had his hands in his pockets. Yuuri rather thought he looked like he was going to a battle, not a banquet hall.

“Very classic” Victor said. “I like it.” His tone was playful as he reached out to finger the fabric of Yuuri’s lapel. 

Yuuri blushed. “That’s just a polite way to say I look like a waiter,” he said. 

Victor scoffed. He smiled indulgently. “I said what I meant. Traditional can be good.” 

Yuuri made a face as he turned back to the mirror to make sure his bow tie wasn’t crooked. “I only wear suits like this when we’re in Tokyo, or if Ojii-sama is here. It makes sense to wear something that won’t go out of style.”

Victor looked at them both in the mirror over Yuuri’s shoulder. “You don’t stand on ceremony here.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, not unless we have to,” Yuuri replied. “I left most of my old suits, and another tuxedo, in Boston--gave them to a charity. I’d have to have gotten them all altered anyway.”

Victor looked confused. “Did you have a growth spurt? You seem too old for that.”

Yuuri’s face burned. He smoothed his jacket and mumbled, “I lost some weight.”

Victor didn’t speak and Yuuri closed his eyes in embarrassment, only to open them wide in shock and spin around in horror when he felt a gentle pinch at his backside.

Victor grinned. “Seems like there’s still a little, ah, junk in your trunk,” he said lightly. 

Yuuri thought he might burst into tears.

At Yuuri’s expression--whatever it looked like--Victor sobered, but still looked quite baffled. “No, no Yuuri, I like it. I--I’m sorry if--” He seemed, however surprisingly, at a loss for words.

Yuuri stared at him, feeling at once frustrated with--Victor had clearly never, ever worried about his appearance--and increasingly fond of his sporadic brushes with Victor’s strange callousness. It was like he had emotional blinders set on random.

“Will you tell me about it?” Victor asked, keeping his eyes on Yuuri’s. “I want to know you better.”

Yuuri wanted the same. So he jutted his jaw, pulling himself up to stand straighter, and turned back to the mirror to retie his tie. It wouldn’t do to be seeing how perfect and beautiful Victor was looking when he spoke about it. 

“There’s not a lot to tell,” he tried to keep his voice as light as Victor had. “I was stress eating during my final year at school. I had a lot going on academically and I couldn’t make it to the rink as often as I can now.”

“You seem to be there quite often,” Victor interjected curiously.

Yuuri let out a breath and admitted, “I’m bored. Or I was. I skate more when I have nothing better to do and when I’m anxious about something. I’ve been running along the beach lately as well.” His fingers were jittery now. He shouldn’t have untied the tie. The fabric kept slipping through his fingers.

“Here,” Victor said softly, and spun him around. Victor took the ends of the tie in his own hands and locked his eyes on Yuuri’s neck. “Go on,” he said.

“I--uh,” Yuuri gathered his thoughts. They always swirled around this subject, never landing long enough for him to form real opinions or feelings, until he told himself to stop, to think about something else, anything else. “My weight’s always fluctuated. It depends on how active I am. My diet, obviously, but how I’m feeling too. I try not to think about it, but I inevitably have to whenever I need to pour myself into an old suit for Ojii-sama, or a new one because the old one doesn’t fit anymore.”

Victor was taking his time with the tie. But he didn’t speak again, so Yuuri kept on. 

“It was growth, like you said, often when I was younger. But sometimes it was fat too. It’s something that’s always been...a thing I’m aware of but not thinking about, I suppose? It’s difficult--to be the one that’s never noticed, but when I am it’s usually people pointing out that I’ve gotten chubby. I always lose it again right after that happens.”

The tie, now tied, slipped from Victor’s fingers and he raised his knuckles to Yuuri’s cheeks, gently soothing. “You’re not doing anything...unsafe?”

Yuuri shook his head. He looked up at Victor. “Sometimes I just don’t want to get out of bed. Sometimes I do want to. Right now, I do, so I lost some weight.”

Victor’s thumb replaced his knuckles and Yuuri felt the strangest urge to turn his head, to take it into his mouth and suck on it, or bite it. But he was too afraid to. He felt hot all over anyway.

Victor said, “I would want you if you hadn’t lost it.”

Yuuri frowned, temper flaring. “You can’t say that, you didn’t--”

Victor’s thumb pressed into Yuuri’s lips and he swallowed the words. “Can you still skate when you’re heavier?”

Yuuri glared. “Of course!”

“And would you be still very smart and brave and kind, Prince Yuuri, if you had not shed those pounds?”

Yuuri huffed. Victor had moved his roving hand to the back of Yuuri’s neck. He’d missed his chance to bite off his thumb.

“I’ll answer that one,” Victor said, helpfully. “Yes, you would be.”

“No one would let you marry me if I was still chubby,” Yuuri argued, holding on to his temper, though he wasn’t certain why.

Victor’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t know what you want to me say, Yuuri. You’re not right now, but after we get married you can get as fat as you want. I really don’t care.”

Yuuri pulled back against Victor’s hand at his neck, but Victor didn’t let him go. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Other people will care,” Yuuri said stubbornly.

“Perhaps they will, but not me,” Victor retorted. His other hand slid around the curve of Yuuri’s behind. “I told you, I like it,” he purred.

Yuuri squeaked and tried to move away from the squirming pressure of Victor’s hand, only to be driven further into his arms, which tightened around Yuuri.

“You’re so skittish,” Victor breathed into Yuuri’s ear.

Yuuri rode the final flare of his temper and growled, “Shut up,” before swinging his arms around Victor’s neck and pressing their lips together. Victor made a surprised sound into Yuuri’s mouth and then was kissing him in earnest. He pulled up on Yuuri’s behind, so Yuuri hiked up his legs, effectively climbing him like a tree.

“Huh?!” Someone yelled from the doorway. 

Yuuri fell away fast from Victor and nearly stumbled, had Victor not steadied him by his arms. They both turned to the door to see Prince Yuri standing there with his mouth hanging open, a look of pure disgust slapped across his face.

“Vitya, stop being gross,” he exclaimed, at the same volume he’d cried out before. “The secretary told me to come get you. Do you think she knew you’d be doing that?”

Victor shrugged. “Maybe. Is it time to eat?”

“How should I know? I just do what I’m told.” Yuri turned his back to them. 

Victor laughed, as though Yuri had said something funny. “No, you don’t,” he replied good-naturedly. He wrapped his arm around Yuuri’s waist as they left his room. Yuuri wanted to wrap himself in Victor’s heat. Not go sit quietly and have Ojii-sama and the rest of his family judge how nice they look together. Victor pressed his lips to Yuuri’s temple, then smiled in the same place as Yuri made another disgusted noise.

“Two Yuuri’s is too confusing,” Victor murmured as they walked, evidently still loud enough for Yuri to hear, as his back and step stiffened in response.

“Eh?” Yuuri replied distractedly. Victor’s fingers playing at his cumberbund were a concern. He’d better not keep doing that at the banquet table.

“Yes, we’ll have to call him something else.”

“Like what?” Yuuri grabbed at Victor’s fingers, which stilled and interlaced with his own. Victor threw him a smile and Yuuri felt the beginnings of a blush across the apples of his cheeks.

Yuri turned and grumbled, “Stop talking about me. And stop groping each other. Look, here’s _Dedulya_.”

Yuuri practically leapt away from Victor. They turned the corner for the banquet hall, from which there was now quiet shamisen music playing. Yuuri’s parents stood just inside the doors as one of Grandfather’s men announced the members of the family who were entering the room.

“The Crown Prince Masahito,” the man droned. “Prince Yasuhito.” Yuuri belatedly realized no one had brought any princesses. It seemed a strange way to plan a wedding. Though he supposed that wasn’t what they’d come here to do. Yuuri had to remind himself they were supposed to be convincing everyone what a good idea it was for Victor and Yuuri to marry.

Kolya and Yuri entered before Victor and Yuuri. The man at the door took great care with their names and titles. Everyone in the room grew silent. Perhaps they’d been unaware Victor’s fellow Russians had arrived. Yuuri could practically hear Fumihito complain that they’d have to speak English all evening.

Victor and Yuuri stood next to each other as Yuri and Kolya passed through the doorway. Yuuri went to step through ahead of Victor--who was the visiting dignitary, after all--but Victor pressed his palm to Yuuri’s chest. “Wait,” he murmured, and Yuuri was so taken aback he could only comply, his mouth hanging open like an idiot as Victor stepped forward too soon.

“V-victor,” Yuuri tried to call him back, but was entirely too late.

“Heir Tsesarevich, The Grand Duke Victor Nikiforov,” the man called out. The room, which had been filled with the murmurings of quiet conversation as Kolya and Yuri found their seats, became silent once again. Victor paused before he reached Yuuri’s parents and turned towards the doorway.

Yuuri steeled himself and walked into the spotlight.

“Prince Yuurihito of Kyuushu,” the man called out. Yuuri blinked and took another step forward. He saw Victor had held out his arm. Yuuri smiled and demurely place his hand inside the crook of Victor’s elbow. They walked forward together.

After bowing to them, Victor received a kiss from Yuuri’s mother and a handshake from his father. They seemed a bit overwhelmed by the fanfare of the occasion in their home. They were usually well prepared for pomp in Tokyo, but all this must have caught them off guard. Yuuri smiled at them, trying to communicate something like, _I’m sorry to put you through this_ as well as _thank you for supporting me_. They beamed back at him and his mother gave him a hug before they turned to the high table and bowed again, this time to Grandfather.

At events like these in the past, Yuuri never, ever sat at the high table. That was reserved for the Emperor and his eldest children or foreign dignitaries. Tonight, he and Victor were seated at the Emperor’s right. They dined family style on traditional Japanese dishes, big plates of foods you were only supposed to take small portions of. Waiters came by with full glasses of wine, one of which Yuuri snagged almost immediately. Though he did not drink until Grandfather raised his own glass and shouted, “ _Kanpai_!”

Victor took a small sip from his glass and smiled at Yuuri. He seemed to be completely at ease with his chopsticks and to have no questions about the menu, though even Yuuri wasn’t exactly sure what some of the delicacies that the waiters were bringing forward contained. He also did not eat until Grandfather, his plate piled high, intoned “ _Itadakimasu,_ and everyone else--besides Yuri and Kolya, who looked confused seated at a lower table with Yuuri’s parents--repeated the ritual phrase.

The Emperor did not enjoy talking and eating, a fact Victor also seemed to be aware of. There was a low murmur of conversation surrounding the high table, but none directed at its center.

Yuuri took another sip of his crisp white wine, realized his glass was half empty already, and glanced at Victor sheepishly. Victor only quirked a questioning eyebrow in response. "Please, will you keep an eye on my glass?" Yuuri asked quietly.

"In case it walks off the table?" He joked.

Yuuri made a face at him. "I just don't want to drink too much." He swirled his glass a little self-consciously. "I drink more when I'm nervous. Not-not to get drunk. It's just...the glass is in my hand, so I drink what's in it. And my tolerance is _so low_ , Victor."

"You weren't partying hard in Cambridge? Taking the train down to New York?" Victor asked, his mouth forming a crooked little smile.

Yuuri looked away. "Not...often."

"But sometimes."

"Sure, sometimes," Yuuri said, looking back. There was no judgement in Victor's expression, just a quiet amusement that somehow wasn't uncomfortable at all.

"I would like to see you let loose, Yuuri," Victor said quietly, looking back down at his plate. His crooked smile had grown. "Not tonight. But I really would like to see that."

Yuuri shoveled some rice into his mouth to stop himself from giggling nervously.

Victor drank from his own wine glass before he continued, "Of course I'll take care of you." He looked at Yuuri's glass, now set on the table as if it were a serious problem to be solved. Or like it really might get up and walk off the table. "I should have put a ring on your finger by now," he said thoughtfully. "Then you could just fidget with that."

Yuuri choked on his food.

He was still coughing, Victor patting his back not-quite-helpfully, when Grandfather, who had clearly been listening in, said loudly, "Why _isn't_ there a ring on that boy's finger, Heir Nikiforov?" Evidently, he had finished eating.

Victor set his chopsticks down on their holder. He looked up at Ojii-sama and smiled. "I thought perhaps Prince Yuurihito might have mentioned it."

"He didn't," Grandfather replied gruffly.

Yuuri had tried to, but knew it would be unwise to say so in that moment.

"We spoke about it yesterday," Victor said. "I explained in my culture--in the Orthodox Church--the Rite of Betrothal typically takes place inside the entryway of a chapel or cathedral. In modern times, this often happens just before the ceremony itself, but I have always thought of the traditional way--where the rite takes place months beforehand--to be very romantic. Your grandson is indulging me."

"Indulging your...romantic fancies," Grandfather said, as though he didn't quite believe Victor.

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty." Victor smiled at Yuuri and took his hand, the one that was reaching, almost unconsciously, for his wine glass. He laced their fingers together, as he had done in Yuuri’s room.

Grandfather cut his gaze to Yuuri as well. "And what's your plan for this wedding, then? What’s he doing for you in exchange?"

Victor squeezed his hand. Yuuri measured his words as he answered, "I hadn't thought much about my wedding before two days ago. So, Victor and I spent a lot of time talking about it. The betrothal will be as Victor likes, the ceremony here in Japan traditionally Shinto, and we will marry again in a State ceremony for the Tsar after. Victor says his father is not religious and won't care about the ceremony here, as long as no official documents are signed. Though, we have not spoken to him, and cannot speak to his feelings on the matter yet."

Grandfather huffed. “They will change to suit his needs.”

Victor stiffened in his seat, but said nothing.

“At least you look well together,” Grandfather said grudgingly. “Too bad there isn’t a band, or I would make you dance.”

Yuuri grimaced. The Emperor was used to getting his way and was being particularly despotic tonight. Victor shot Yuuri a sidelong glance that seemed to say, _isn’t that what we are already doing?_

He said, "Yuuri must be a very good dancer. He's so compelling on the ice." His expression was amused, but flirtatious as well.

Yuuri kicked his foot under the table. Victor pressed back with his own foot and Yuuri felt himself go beet red. He didn't want to play footsie with his grandfather a foot away.

"He never dances at family functions," Yasuhito called from the other end of the high table. The very end. He must have been straining very hard to hear their conversation. He was also glaring at Yuuri.

Yuuri frowned. "Since when do we ever dance at family functions ?" He asked, probably too loudly.

Victor stifled a smirk as Yasuhito sputtered. The Crown Prince Masahito, his father, elbowed him harshly and he shut his mouth with a snap. Grandfather rolled his eyes and said, "You're all lucky we're not starting today." He set a hard eye on Victor and Yuuri, "I'll just have to take it on faith you're good. And if you're not, you'll have the sense to take lessons."

"Of course, Ojii-sama," Yuuri said very seriously and was perplexed when the Emperor laughed as though he'd made a joke.

Victor smiled at Yuuri. Yuuri picked his wine glass back up and drained it.

As everyone else finished eating, it was customary, at least for the family, for the dessert and cocktail course to be a bit more casual. Grandfather's sons, both Masahito and Hirahito, stood from the table and took their snifters of brandy to where Kolya was sitting. As they began to speak, a look of profound boredom glazed over Yuri's features and he slumped in his chair.

Yuuri felt a little bad. Prince Yuri clearly had no idea what he’d gotten himself into when he stowed away in his grandfather’s trunk. “You should go talk to him,” Yuuri told Victor, inclining his head towards Yuri.

Victor looked startled. “He’s done this to himself,” Victor replied with a haughty tone. “And besides, he should come over here and apologize to you for being so rude.”

Yuuri shook his head. “He doesn’t need to. We, uh, talked about it.”

Victor shot him a suspicious look. “He apologized?”

Yuuri glanced down. “I know he cares for you. He’s only a boy. Just go give him some attention. He’ll feel better.”

Victor gave Yuuri a long look and said slowly, “You are an uncommon person, Yuurihito.” He smiled and lifted their interlocked hands, pressing his lips to the back of Yuuri’s palm. “Decidedly uncommon.”

As Victor walked away, a waiter came by and filled Yuuri’s glass, against his--admittedly--minimal protest. Yuuri sat at the table, by himself as he so often was during family functions, and drank as he watched Victor approach Yuri, only to be quickly intercepted by Masahito and Yasuhito, who snared him into their conversation with Kolya. Yuuri smiled sadly. Poor Yuri would have to wait.

“He is very attentive of you,” Ojii-sama said.

Yuuri turned to his grandfather, who he’d somehow forgot was sitting only two feet to his right. He frowned. He thought perhaps he shouldn’t have picked up the second glass of wine. “Is he?” Yuuri said vaguely. He hadn’t really thought about it. He picked up his glass again and scooted his chair closer to Ojii-sama, close enough to reach out and touch, though he refrained. Instead he took another small sip of wine.

Ojii-sama replied, “Well, he did everything politeness dictates, of course. But he watches you as well. He’s watching you now.”

Yuuri looked across the room to find Victor still cornered by his relatives. He nodded along, in some semblance of attention, but his eyes drifted, quite casually, every few moments, to where Yuuri sat. Yuuri felt the flush that had blossomed high in his cheeks, from the wine over the course of the meal, bloom into something a lot more noticeable, and hot. 

“He’s not what I expected,” Ojii-sama said.

Yuuri turned to his grandfather, much too visibly startled. He should be playing his cards a lot closer, but he was probably already too tipsy for that.

“He’s not what I expected either,” Yuuri felt bold enough to admit. He’d never had a conversation like this with Ojii-sama before. Rarely did they speak one-on-one, with no one else listening. In fact, Yuuri couldn’t remember a time they’d been completely alone together since he was quite small. “It’s why I said yes.”

“Hmm,” Ojii-sama grunted. “If he’d been what anyone expected, we wouldn’t even be here.”

“You’d be in Tokyo toasting Yasuhito and I’d be…” Yuuri didn’t know anymore. He fiddled with his napkin instead of finishing the sentence.

“What the hell were you going to do, Yuuri-kun?” Ojji-sama spoke with such bewildered fondness, Yuuri knew his eyes were bugging out and he thought he might burst into tears. “Obaa-san and I thought you just might never come back from America.”

“No, no,” Yuuri said, turning fully to face the Emperor. “I love Japan. I was always going to come home.” 

Ojii-sama reached out and patted Yuuri’s hand. “And now you will leave again.” he said, but he smiled too. “It is difficult when there are so many of you and so much to do. It’s easy to lose track of all my beautiful children. When you go with him, please don’t forget to post the pictures.”

Tears pearled in the corners of Yuuri’s eyes. “But no videos,” he said, smiling.

“Not unless you want to bag another prince, little lamb.” Ojii-sama patted his knee, then clutched it for a moment and he leveraged his old bones to stand. Yuuri looked up, and grimaced as next Ojii-sama patted his head. Despite its awkwardness, the gesture felt strangely like a benediction. “If the Tsar agrees, we will give to his son your hand in marriage. There is much more to discuss, but not tonight. You will be careful, Yuuri-kun.”

It wasn’t a question, or even a command, but a statement. Regardless, Yuuri replied, “Yes, Ojii-sama.”

“And if he hurts you, we will start a war, eh?” Grandfather winked and turned away, shouting, “Everyone go to bed now! I’m tired!”

Yuuri took his chance to escape. Trying to clandestinely wipe at his eyes, he slipped away from the high table and out the far side door of the banquet hall. There was a dusty alcove tucked back in the corner, where Yuuri could let himself breathe too fast and let the tears roll silently down his cheeks. It wasn’t that he was sad. He wasn’t even upset, really. It was just...all so much.

Barely even a minute passed before Victor found him. He must have followed him out of the room almost immediately. “Yuuri?” he called, his voice stark with worry and echoing in down the corridor. Yuuri turned and saw Victor take in his tears. His eyes were fierce and his expression somehow broken. He looked torn apart. “ _What’s happened?_ ” He asked.

Without conscious thought, Yuuri’s feet, legs, body moved, so fast, with such strength, he barreled into Victor, sending them both stumbling backwards. Victor took almost all of Yuuri’s weight, letting him press close, pulling him tighter. His voice in Yuuri’s ear was choked, desperate. “Tell me, _kroshka_. Please.”

Yuuri was shaking. He felt dizzy in Victor’s arms. “H-he said--” Yuuri sunk his fingers into Victor’s jacket and shirt. “I didn’t know he loves me, Victor. I didn’t know that.”

“Hush, hush,” Victor crooned, petting his hair. “I don’t understand, darling. Tell me why you are crying. We can fix it, Yuuri. I promise.”

Yuuri smiled through his tears. Promises he didn’t know he could keep, indeed. “There’s nothing to fix. Not tonight,” Yuuri pulled back and looked in Victor’s clear blue eyes. “Ojii-sama’s given his permission. He’ll let me marry you.”

Victor smiled. Yuuri kissed him.

Yuuri clung. Yuuri wanted, but Victor pulled away, breath hot and unsteady. His hands were threaded through Yuuri’s hair. It felt good, so Yuuri closed his eyes. “You’ve had more wine,” Victor said with quiet amusement. 

“You left me to my own devices,” Yuuri said, pressing his body close to Victor’s.

“At your request, _kroshka_.” There was laughter in Victor’s voice. Yuuri loved it.

“What’s it mean?” Yuuri asked, belatedly realizing he’d spoken in Japanese.

“If you go to bed now, I will tell you in the morning,” Victor replied in the same language. 

“Come with me, then.” Yuuri didn’t want to let go of Victor. “They just let me have you,” he said, his thoughts walking away with his words.

Victor chuckled. He twisted out of Yuuri’s grasp and, taking his hand, began to pull him along the corridor. “Oh dear,” he said. “Every corner of this place looks the same to me. How do we get back to your room?”

Yuuri pointed, content to let Victor lead the way. At each turn, Victor looked back at him, eyes full of mirth, and perhaps wonder, as Yuuri gestured in the right direction. 

When they got to Yuuri’s room, Yuuri closed the door behind Victor and, thinking of little besides his bed, began to carelessly strip off his suit. He didn’t realize Victor was watching him until he’d got his pants around his ankles. He thumped onto the futon, which had been laid out for him by the extra servants they had acquired for Grandfather’s visit--and kicked at his pants until they slid across the floor and away from him. Victor’s expression looked torn between amusement and appreciation, Yuuri wasn’t sure which he liked better.

“You really do dislike formal wear, don’t you?” Victor asked.

Yuuri stuck out his tongue. 

Victor licked his lips, in a strangely uncertain gesture, and said, “You’re sure you want me to stay?”

Yuuri nodded. Victor was here. Why would he go anywhere else?

Victor slipped off his jacket and tie, watching Yuuri as he fumbled with the buttons of his tuxedo shirt. Once Yuuri got enough of them undone, he left the last three or four buttoned and just pulled the shirt over his head. Victor looked as though he wanted to laugh.

Yuuri was stripped down to his undershirt and boxer briefs and halfway under the covers when Victor, who was folding his suit carefully and arranging it next to the futon, said, “You’re not wearing your glasses, Yuuri.”

“Not to bed,” Yuuri mumbled, snuggling around his blankets and pressing his face to his pillow.

“You weren’t earlier, either. Are you wearing contacts?”

Yuuri nodded.

“Shouldn’t you take them out?” 

Yuuri looked up to peer blearily at Victor’s concerned face. “I can sleep in them.”

“That can’t be good for your eyes,” Victor said doubtfully.

“It’s fine,” Yuuri assured him. He reached up to tug Victor into the bed. “It’s fine sometimes. I’m sleepy now.”

Victor did laugh at that. “I can tell,” he said. “You’ve had a long day.”

Yuuri pulled him under the covers and closer to him, winding his legs around Victor’s and wrapping his arms around his waist, like a crab, or a barnacle--something from the ocean, which Yuuri could hear in the distance at this time of night.

Victor stiffened slightly, but eventually relaxed, which was good. Yuuri was on his way to drifting off when Victor said softly while stroking Yuuri’s hair, “I’ll not despoil you, my prince.”

Yuuri blinked his eyes open and looked up at Victor. “Never?” he asked incredulously.

“Not until after the Rite of Betrothal,” Victor answered.

Yuuri frowned confusedly. “Shouldn’t it be until after the wedding?”

“Did you really want to wait so long?” Victor’s voice was low and amused.

Yuuri shook his head slowly. He felt much too tired to be talking about this now. “Betrothal seems...arbitrary.” His mouth stumbled over the word, but Victor seemed to understand.

“What if it was tomorrow?” he asked slyly.

Yuuri grinned and kissed him happily, and sloppily, then fell fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who helped by reading, approving, and betaing this fic.
> 
> Below are some more Russian words I googled:  
>  _Dedulya_ \- You might remember, means Grandpa.  
>  _Kroshka_ \- A term of endearment that you can look up, or find out in the next fic!
> 
> Though many anime fans are probably aware, below are some Japanese words I internalized by studying the language (then promptly forgetting most of it) and studying abroad/vacationing in Japan occasionally in my real life:  
>  _Kanpai_ \- Cheers! Literally "dry" - "glass"  
>  _Itadakimasu_ \- A ritual phrase said before eating. Literally "I humbly receive." Meaning along the lines of "Bon apetit!" or "Let's eat!"
> 
> Thanks so much to all the readers and commenters from the previous fic and the previous chapters. I'm blown away by your kindness and your engagement with this fic. Please come find me also on twitter and tumblr at norgbelulah!
> 
> And, yes, there will be another fic in this series. I wasn't gonna leave you hanging here!


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